


Mezzanine

by rainbowdracula



Series: Deditionem [1]
Category: Daredevil (TV), Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Aftercare, BDSM, Bondage and Discipline, Dom/sub, M/M, Praise Kink, alternative universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-18
Updated: 2015-08-18
Packaged: 2018-04-15 11:23:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4604883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rainbowdracula/pseuds/rainbowdracula
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peter wanders into a certain type of club. Fortunately, Matt is the one to find him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Originally, the idea of this became a Daredevil kink meme prompt that I ended up filling myself and am finally posting on here. The song "Mezzanine" (and the album Mezzanine) by Massive Attack is the soundtrack to this pile of filth. Enjoy!

"Sunset so thickly,

Let's make it quiet and quickly.

Don't frown,

It tastes better on the way back down."

\- _Mezzanine,_ Massive Attack

 

"People misinterpret why I use the blindfold."

Peter was on his knees in the middle of Matthew's apartment, the garish lights of the electronic billboard casting kaleidoscopic colors on his face. Rain pattered on the big windows. Matt's feet were bare, and he was dressed only in gray sweatpants. This did not affect how intimidating he was – in fact, it made it worse. Peter's arms were bound straight behind his back with soft nylon rope, and he was whimpering.

There was a long strip of black silk in Matt's hand, and Peter eyed it as wearily as he eyed the flogger.

"They think it's about making you experience what I experience," Matthew continued, voice never raising above a soft whisper. Peter hung on to every word. "Or that I somehow even the playing field with it. Like it somehow puts us on _equal footing_."

Matthew placed his foot on Peter's shoulder blades, forcing him to bend even further so his nose touched the carpet. "But it doesn't. Do you know why that is, smart boy?"

Peter almost shook his head, but stopped himself, instead saying with a breathy moan, "N-no, sir. I'm sorry, sir."

"Because I know how to navigate the world without sight, while you're helpless without it," Matthew purred. He removed his foot from Peter's back, instead kneeling down to tie the silk around Peter's eyes. The world was plunged into darkness, and Peter gasped out another helpless whimper. Matt stroked his hair, then grasped it firmly and pulled so Peter's neck was at an almost painful bend.

"Now," Matt rumbled into his ear. "I'm going to teach you how to be a _good boy_ for me."

 

-

 

Like most bad ideas, it started off as an off-hand comment from someone that took root and bloomed in Peter's mind.

Peter always thought of himself as a regular, nerdy guy. He had a good job in the biotech wing of Stark Industries, where – one dream day – Tony Stark himself might notice him. The apartment he shared with his friends MJ and Gwen was pretty nice, even large by New York standards. His Aunt May was proud of him. And he liked porn involving skinny guys getting dominated in all sorts of different positions.

The last one was okay, because Peter could not imagine a world where he acted upon those desires. You just don't throw out hair pulling and spanking on the first date, okay? He'd tell them when the moment was right...it just hadn't happened yet because Peter was terrible with relationships. Besides, just because he liked it in porn (read: it made him get off faster than anything else) didn't mean he'd like it in real life. Never mind that time MJ slapped his ass back when they were sleeping together in college. He was just a _regular guy._

"Maybe you should go to a club," MJ said one morning at breakfast, when Peter was attempting to finish his latest round of reports about this _stupid spider project_ and eat cereal at the same time. He was mostly failing. "Dance off some of this stress."

"Don't be ridiculous, you know how I do in clubs," Peter said automatically. Gwen came out of the bathroom at this moment.

"Maybe not a dance club," Gwen said with the trademarked Gwen Stacy Giggle that meant her and MJ were about to team up on him. "There's plenty of clubs in New York."

MJ fake gasped, the sunlight in her hair making it look like fire. "Are you implying innocent little Peter go to a _sex dungeon_?"

They cackled, pleased with their joke, but suddenly Peter's mind was full of smoke and leather, the crooning voice of someone in his ear going _just like that, baby boy, oh you're being so very good for me..._

Thus why Peter was in his tightest pair of jeans ( _those look painted on, Parker, yoga has been good to you!_ ) and staring wide eyed at _Avenger._ There was plenty of leather and things were all dim and red, with absurdly attractive people milling about everywhere wearing the gauntlet from full gimp suit to a few strategically placed straps. And there seemed to be some sort of... _demonstration?_...occurring at the stage in front of the bar. Knives and ropes.

Peter gulped.

_The plan,_ Peter told himself, trying not to betray his absolute noobie status by staring. _Go to the bar. Get a beer. Stay for an hour. Try not to get sucked into some weird sex dungeon._

It was a good plan, possibly the only good idea he's had since the crazy decision to go to a BDSM club. Peter chewed on his bottom lip until it was bright red, eyes fixed forward.

Of course he still managed to bump into someone, because he was Peter Parker.

It was like running into a stone wall. The pecs could've stopped a car. Peter stumbled back, apology stumbling past his lips, and noticed the man's long, white cane.

Typical Peter luck – finally get up the nerve to explore his kinks, run face first into the most ripped blind dude in the entire city. Peter looked up at his face. _Correction,_ he managed to run into the hottest, most ripped blind dude in the entire city.

"I'm so sorry," Peter stuttered. "I wasn't...I don't pay the best attention to my surroundings and...I'm _so sorry._ "

The man tilted his head, and then with uncanny accuracy grabbed Peter's hair, pulling him close. Peter's cock, which had taken mild interest in the proceedings only to retreat into a shame spiral, came back with full force. He gasped, red mouth opening obscenely.

"I don't think you are," he rumbled with a voice like pure sex. Peter trembled. "I think I need to show you how to apologize properly."

The man let go of Peter's hair, hand sliding down to grip his arm. "There are booths on the other side of the bar. You can lead the way."

Peter felt like he was walking to his own execution. When they got to the booth, the man sat down, but did not let Peter.

"Knees," he commanded softly. His voice carried over the noise of the club, thudding right into Peter's heart. Peter slid right down between his spread open thighs.

The man rest his boot on Peter's back, forcing him down even further, so his nose was touching the floor. He replaced his foot with the tip of his cane, drawing Peter's loose, plain T-shirt up and baring his back to the hot air.

"Now what do you have to say?" the man asked. Peter whimpered.

"I'm sorry," Peter said. The cane dug into his back – not enough to hurt, but as a warning.

"Try again," the man said, the threat unspoken but apparent in his tone. Peter wet his lips.

"I'm sorry, sir," he tried, shaking. He'd call the man whatever he wanted. He'd never been this turned on in his whole life. The man removed his cane.

"Now was that so hard?" the man asked. "Come up here, sit in my lap."

Peter rose up and settled down on the man's broad thighs. An arm snaked around his waist.

"What a good boy," the man crooned. "What's my good boy's name?"

"P-Peter," he said, squirming. "My name's Peter, sir."

The man smiled. "My name's Matthew."

"Hello," Peter said, and giggled like an idiot. Matthew smiled wider.

The hand not on Peter's waist reached up and traced along Peter's face.

"You're new to all of this," Matthew said. It was a statement of fact, not a question. "No wonder you didn't know how to apologize properly."

Peter nodded, then caught himself. "Yes, sir. I've never...I didn't think I'd ever come here. Like ever. Very outside my worldly experience. Sir."

Matthew leaned back. "Chatty, huh? Good thing I was the find you, then."

He pulled Peter against his chest, and rasped into his ear, "I like the talkative ones. They're the most fun to shut up."


	2. Chapter 2

"Spending all week with your friends.

Give me evenings and weekends,

Evenings and weekends."

\- _Mezzanine,_ Massive Attack

 

There were rules, written out on yellow legal pads and printed in Braille. Peter had tucked his copy into his nightstand drawer. It sat in there, mocking, and Peter was so helplessly keyed up, he ground his hips into his mattress. He couldn't even masturbate to take the edge off, because Matthew had forbidden it until their date on Friday.

Their _date._

"I'm going to take you to a nice little Italian place," Matt had murmured into his ear. "Then I'm going to take you back to my place, and there I'm going to fuck you bowlegged and begging."

Peter felt out of sorts for the rest of the week, thoughts of Matt's growl in his ear making him shiver at work. It was probably bad to be distracted when he's working with dangerous chemicals, but he couldn't help it. He'd seen Matt's ass.

On Saturday, Peter spent a good three hours grooming and picking out his outfit. The fact he was doing this for a blind man was not lost on him, but he had the overwhelming urge to please Matthew in every possible way – like showing up with him at a fancy restaurant as his beautiful date.

Peter also packed an overnight bag.

"This must be quite the guy," Gwen said, peering at Peter's frantic last minute preparation. "What did you say his name was again?"

"Matt," Peter said, a little too quickly. "He's a lawyer. Very handsome. We're going to Italian."

"Just Italian?" Gwen asked with a raised eyebrow. "Are you going to get the sausage?"

Peter gaped at her, and then nodded. Gwen laughed.

"Have a good weekend, Parker," she said.

Peter met Matt outside of his apartment, so he could drop off his bag and they could walk to the restaurant together. They talked about mundane things – work, interests, first date things – and Matt's wit made Peter laugh and laugh. He had a beautiful smile.

The Italian place was popular and cozy, with the trees and overhead lattices out front laced with fairy lights. Inside, the light was warm and the din of voices spilled out into the street. Peter was glad that he had dressed in his nice clothes after all – this was a far cry from the janky pizza places and student bars him and his friends still frequented.

Just before they reached the doors, Matt gripped Peter's arm harder and murmured in his ear, "Are you wearing underwear?"

"No, sir," Peter breathed. Matt smiled, wicked and sharp.

"And why's that?" he asked. Peter's blushed spilled down past his collar.

"Because you told me not to, sir," Peter said. He remembered the instruction vividly, said right at the end of the phone call to set up their first date. Now he was once again aware of the brush of his pants against his skin.

"Such a good boy," Matt praised, and they went into the restaurant.

It was the type of place where you needed reservations and the waiter told you the wine list in relation to what dishes they paired well with. Peter felt completely out of his depth.

"Do you want me to order for you?" Matt asked. Peter nodded, and then caught himself.

"Yes, that would be nice," Peter said. "Thank you, he started talking about pairing the dishes and I just...got a little lost."

Matt leaned back, tilting his head in the way Peter was beginning to associate with him thinking.

"In modern life, there are so many choices," Matt mused. "We are bombarded with choice – where to eat, what to entertain ourselves with, what to buy, who to vote for...everything is a choice. It can get overwhelming, can't it?"

"Yes," Peter agreed, fascinated by the curl of Matt's mouth, the lift of his eyebrow. The rest of the restaurant melted away into a sea of soft colors and murmured noises, easily ignored beyond the bounds of their little table by the window.

"It's nice to just not worry about it, even if for a night," Matt continued. "Know someone is making the choices for you, and all you have to do is _listen._ Can you listen to me, smart boy?"

"Oh, yes, sir, yes," Peter assured. The waiter chose that moment to appear.

"What can I get you gentlemen?" he asked.

"I'll have the _polpettine di vitella_ ," Matt said. "And my companion will have the _straccetti d'angnello_. What wines would you recommend with those?"

The waiter rattled off some more Italian, and, considering, Matt picked one for them.

"Just a bottle," Matt said. The waiter left.

"You don't have to spend a bunch of money to impress me," Peter assured. Matt smiled.

"I want to spend a bunch of money to impress you," Matt laughed. "I'm here to take care of you."

Another hot blush bloomed across Peter's cheeks. He was nervous, and thus he did what he normally did when he got nervous – he babbled.

"So I work with all these genetically engineered spiders," Peter said. "We're looking at farming or artificially creating spider silk for construction, but we're having trouble finding people willing to work with the spiders. How ridiculous is that? People not wanting to work on a project that could change construction as we know it because they're afraid of some little nonvenomous spiders? You don't even have to touch them."

"People don't like their scuttling, or so I've been told," Matt said. "I usually don't notice them unless someone points them out. I didn't know Stark Industries does biotech?"

"Got into it when Oscorp got into engineering," Peter said. "I'm glad they did. Stark is less shady and has way better benefits."

Matt smiled. "Corporate law made me quite skeptical of any business with over four employees, but I do remember some stories about Oscorp."

"Don't you have a business with over four employees?" Peter teased, wondering if he could do so. If this wouldn't be used against him later tonight. Matt cocked an eyebrow.

"Are you going to be mouthy to me all night?" Matt said with a filthy grin, words low and rumbling. Peter squirmed.

"I have a hard time turning it off," Peter admitted. "It might get worse, in fact.

"Good," Matt purred. "More satisfying for me, in the end."

Dinner went like that – conversation and innuendo that made Peter relax and wind up in equal measure. By the time dinner was done, Peter flushing with excitement.

Matt wrapped his arm around Peter's waist, inhaled the scent of his hair. "I can't wait for you to be all tied up, my smart boy."

Peter pressed himself closer to Matt's strong embrace, trembling with need over a few crooned words. Matt laughed, fond, and despite the chill in the air Peter felt warm.

When they finally got back to the apartment, the mood shifted. The air became heavy with promises, Peter standing in the middle of the living room and shivering. Matt walked past him, brushing his hand across Peter's shoulders. They dipped lower, undoing Peter's fly and slipping into his pants, immediately rubbing against bare skin. Peter gasped.

"What are your colors, darling?" Matt asked, fingers moving in slow and comforting circles against Peter's hips.

"Um, green for good," Peter recounted, already beginning to unravel. "Yellow for slow down, and, ah, red for full stop. Oh!"

"Very good, sweet boy," Matt praised, kissing Peter's cheek. He stepped back. "Strip down fully. Fold and place your clothes on the table."

Peter's hands shook as he followed Matt's instructions. Matt was in the bedroom, digging around, and Peter realized he probably should be completely undressed before Matt came back.

Matt returned with a pair of leather cuffs, jacket off and shirt completely unbuttoned. His muscles looked like they were chiseled from stone.

"Less risk of losing circulation," Matt explained. "Hands behind your back."

The cuffs were very firm, but lined with soft wool. Peter was shaking now, but he couldn't help his mouth. "No whips and chains?"

Matt laughed, and as quick as a snake, had Peter's hair in a painful grip. "As of right now, you only get to talk when spoken to. And when you do, you address me as sir. Understood?"

"Y-yes, sir," Peter breathed. Matt let go of Peter's hair.

"On your knees," Matt said, and Peter kneeled immediately. Matt walked away once again, sitting down on the chair. "Come here. Don't stand up."

It was difficult, almost humiliating, to make his way over to Matt. Peter shuffled along on his knees, growing erection bouncing, and without his hands to balance himself, he kept stumbling and falling, face to the ground. He just knew that Matt knew this, even though he could not see his struggles, and it made Peter's face burn.

Finally, he was between Matt's spread legs and rested his face against his inner thigh. He wondered if he'd get to sit on his lap again. Matt unbuttoned his pants.

"Come on," Matt said. "Make me hard."

Peter gulped, delicately gripping Matt's zipper in his mouth and pulling it down, revealing soft briefs. Peter nuzzled at him through the boxers, mouthing at the fabric. Matt sighed, running his fingers through Peter's hair. Drool was starting to drip down Peter's chin without much to show for it.

Seeming to take pity on him, Matt pushed Peter away for a moment and dragged his briefs down. Peter sucked on the head of his half-hard cock. He worked more and more into his mouth until he got a good rhythm going, breathing evenly through his nose.

"I can't believe you've never been on your knees before," Matt said. "The moment I met you I knew what you wanted. What you _needed._ "

He pushed on Peter's head, urging Peter to take him ever deeper. Peter choked, trying to relax his throat and take Matt in. Matt smiled, tipping his head back.

"Can't believe no one else has had you like this," Matt crooned, stroking Peter's cheek. "You belong on your knees."

He let go of Peter's hair, letting him come up for air. Panting, Peter leaned his head against Matt's thigh to catch his breath. Matt massaged his scalp and patted his thigh.

Peter clamored into his lap, pressing his face against Matt's neck and just breathing for a few moments, Matt rubbing up and down his spine.

"How are you feeling?" Matt asked, warm. Peter nuzzled his neck.

"Green," Peter murmured. "Very green. Spinach green."

Matt laughed again, kissing Peter's temple. "Glad to know. Now, go to the bed. Face down, on your knees."

Peter scrambled to obey, practically racing to the bedroom to awkwardly roll himself on to the mattress. He rested his cheek against Matt's deliciously soft silk sheets, and ended up rubbing his face against them for a few moments.

Matt followed behind much more sedately, hands trailing down Peter's bound arms and then his thighs, which he pulled out. It forced Peter into a more extreme, revealing bend, and made a humiliated flush trailing down his chest.

"You're flexible," Matt said. "How wonderful."

He straightened out, walking to the nightstand to dig around the drawer and pull out lube and condoms. Peter's eyes widened, biting his lip in anticipation.

"Normally I would draw this out a bit more," Matt hummed. "But you're new and have been such a good boy for me. What to do you say to that?"

"Thank you, sir," Peter breathed. Matt smiled, kissed his temple.

"My smart boy," he praised, walking back around the bed. He dropped the lube and condoms down, and Peter felt the bounce against the plush mattress. He shivered.

The lube snapped open, and Matt slowly rubbed his fingers against Peter's entrance. They slipped in, and Peter gasped, thighs shaking.

"Relax," Matt said, low and grounding. Peter couldn't, nerves and desire pulsing through him with the rapid fluttered of his heart, beating against his ribcage like a trapped bird. " _Relax,_ Peter."

When the command was not obeyed, Matt slammed his hand down on to Peter's ass.

Peter cried out, jolting with the sweet pain that dragged his mind away from the endlessly numbered possibilities that had filled up his brain.

"If you don't listen, I'll have to punish you," Matt explained, gentle like the sheets. "I don't want to punish you, but if you're not going to be good I'll have to. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir," Peter slurred. "I'm sorry...sorry..."

Matt kissed his cheek and rolled them over so they were spooning. "You just need something to concentrate on."

He slipped the fingers of his free hand into Peter's mouth, and Peter sucked on them with enthusiasm, focusing on them. Matt was a big, solid weight behind him, showering his neck and jaw with kisses, comforting like an electric blanket on a winter night. It was easy to just float on the sensation, warm and safe.

Matt stopped fingering him, making Peter whine and nudge back. Matt gripped his leg, drawing it up and over Matt's waist so he could push inside.

Peter moaned, long and low, bound hands scrambling for some sort of purchase against Matt's body. Matt's fingers slipped out of his mouth to gently cradle Peter's throat – a reminder, a promise.

"That's it," Matt praised, rolling his hips slowly. "Just let me take care of you."

Peter sagged, letting himself be handled like a ragdoll. Matt gently rolled them over, so Peter was face down once again and Matt's thrusts grew in intensity.

"This is all you needed, isn't it?" Matt murmured. "Someone to just hold you down and make you turn off that brain of yours, smart boy?"

Peter couldn't help the helpless noises that spilled out with every thrust of Matt's hips, whole world narrowed down to him and only him. Matt nuzzled his neck, nipped at his skin.

"Just let go, darling," Matt purred. "Just like this, baby boy. I'll be right there to catch you."

Peter was making little _ah, ah, ah_ noises, eyes wide but only seeing white. Matt was murmuring nonsense praise and words of encouragement, thrusts growing in intensity and vigor until, finally, Peter's back arched and then _snapped._

He fell limply to the bed, completely liquid for Matt to use how he pleased. Matt bit his nape, and the roll of his hips grew in speed and intensity, until Peter felt him shudder inside him with a long, low groan.

"Gorgeous," Matt praised. "Such a good boy..."

He undid the cuffs, and Peter's arms fell limply. Matt rolled him on to his side, kissing his cheek before he got out of bed. Peter drifted, half aware of the cold wet cloth Matt was using to clean him up, but he was aware of the big hands that massaged his shoulders.

"Mhm," he mumbled. "I feel good."

Matt laughed, sitting Peter up some to help him drink a glass of water. Peter gulped it down – when had he become so thirsty?

He was laid down again, this time with Matt spooned up behind him. Matt tossed a big, heavy blanket over them.

"You were amazing, you did so well," Matt said. "Such a lovely boy. There's so many things I want to do to you."

Peter snuggled close, Matt's arms strong around him. He fell asleep to the sounds of traffic and Matt's gentle kisses.

**Author's Note:**

> [Commission me! ](http://rainbowdracula.tumblr.com/post/121606093217/writing-commissions)  
>  [My Tumblr!](http://rainbowdracula.tumblr.com)
> 
>  
> 
> Thanks for all your kudos, comments, and support! I really appreciate it.


End file.
